


Holiday Housesitting

by tealeaf523 (ConstantComment)



Series: 12 Days of Fanfic (2012) [6]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/tealeaf523
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Phil is *not* a babysitter, and Clint is a 16-year-old archery biathlete. You know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Housesitting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vix_spes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/gifts).



> So I now know that Clint was originally an orphan, but he's not here.
> 
> (Also, they're young'uns in this one. Clint is 16, Phil is 18. No sexytiems, no worries.)

Phil is not a babysitter. He isn't. He's just housesitting for a set of rich folks who happened to leave their kid behind for a week over New Years'. And before you ask, it isn't his job to have an opinion of the people for whom he housesits, even if he thinks they're assholes for leaving their son in Iowa while they vacation in Barbados.

The reason Phil knows he's not a babysitter is that the son, Clint, is sixteen and can take care of himself. Even though he spends so much time training as an archery biathlete that he forgets to eat sometimes, and he leaves his bow and quiver on the kitchen counter and his skis in the front hall. Phil's seen him shoot, and he's really good, and he's seen him hanging out on the roof sometimes when Phil gets home from grabbing groceries, and he's also seen him in just a towel with water dripping down his abs. But that's neither here nor there because the kid is sixteen and Phil is eighteen and it's not his job to check out the Barton's youngest. In fact it may be the one thing that could get him fired.

It's also not his job to go ice skating with the kid, but Clint asked and so here they are at the outdoor rink in town and Clint's put on hockey skates and is silently judging as Phil carefully ties his own snug around his ankles.

"Are you as good at skating as you are at archery?" Phil asks, a little resigned.

"No," Clint says with a shake of his head. "I played hockey until high school."

Until? Phil silently asks as he wobbles upright. Clint wraps his hand around Phil's elbow. "I wasn't falling," he says.

Clint raises his eyebrows and replies, "Sure."

Phil isn't actually that bad. He's taken a couple girls ice skating before, but never a boy. Not that he's taking Clint ice skating. Although he did drive him here. They're out on the ice, gliding pretty smoothly after ten minutes of adjustment and Phil is still contemplating the potential of this being an accidental date, when Clint says, "I know you've been watching me." Phil blinks and looks at Clint, who's got this look in his eye, not knowing like usual, but a little vulnerable. "You like me, don't you."

"You're sixteen," is the first thing that comes out of Phils' mouth. Clint glides closer, his hazel eyes reflecting the Christmas lights around them.

"It's not like you're forty."

Phil bristles at that. People are always joking that he acts like a middle-aged man. He acts like a person. Phil slows to a stop, spins and asks, "Is this a date, Clint?"

Clint rolls his eyes and ignores the jerk who shouts at them to get out of the middle of the rink. "I asked you to come with me, didn't I?"

"You don't have a car."

Clint seems to have trouble with this one, before blurting, "Well, I wanted you to come with me." He swallows and looks away, his hands twitching.

"So, when you said you knew I'd been watching you... You meant you'd been watching me."

"I watch people," Clint says, before blushing furiously.

Phil takes pity on him, and even if his own heart is beating a little faster in his chest, he just pulls Clint toward him with a tug at the kid's jacket pockets. "You little creeper," he says, blowing a cloud of air into the small space between them. "What news channel do I watch in the mornings?"

Clint is only a little surprised, eyes blinking away from Phil's lips before muttering, "CNN."

"What's my favorite pizza topping?"

"Ham."

"Favorite superhero?"

"Captain America. You have a keychain and a pair of boxers with his sheild on them." Phil raises his eyebrows. "And you have brown eyes, and you like your coffee black, and you can't take your eyes off me when I walk from the pool to my bathroom every morning."

"Well..." Phil is at a loss for words. "Okay, wow."

"Can I kiss you now, so we can skate?" Clint says, a little whiney, but then Phil has a hand on his waist and is fitting his lips over Clint's, enjoying the little noise Clint makes when Phil pulls him flush against him.

"Alright, we can skate," Phil says after a good little while, nose touching a warm cheek.

Clint slips his hand into Phil's and doesn't let go for a long time.


End file.
